It was getting warm. The last hot days before the leaves started turning. Already eighty degrees, maybe going past ninety, one last time. He wiped perspiration from his face, watching the building, listening to the buzz, letting them sweat from something other than the heat of the day.
‘Shit,’ Piazzi snarled, slamming the phone down. ‘You two!’
‘Yeah?’ It was the taller one, Bobby.
‘Take a walk around the building -‘
‘No!’ Henry said, thinking. ‘What if he’s right outside? You can’t see shit out that window. He could be standing right next to the door. You want to risk that?’
‘What do you mean?’ Piaggi asked.
Tucker was pacing now, breathing a little faster than usual, commanding himself to think. How would I do it? ‘I mean, the bastard cuts the phone line, makes his call, spooks us, and then he just waits for us right outside, like.’
‘What do yon know about this guy?’
‘I know he killed five pushers, and four of my people -‘
‘And four of mine if he ain’t lyin’ -‘
‘So we gotta outthink him, okay? How would you handle it?’
Piaggi thought that one over. He’d never killed. It had just never worked out that way. He was more the brains side of the business. He had roughed people up in his time, however, had delivered some fearful beatings, and that was close enough, wasn’t it? How would I do this? Henry’s idea made sense. You just stay out of sight, like around a corner, in an alley, in the shadows, and then you let them look the other way. The nearest door, the one they’d used, swung to the left, and you could tell that from the outside from where the hinges were. It also had the virtue of being closest to the cars, and since that was their only means of escape, that’s the one he’d expect them to use.
Yeah.
Piaggi looked over to his partner. Henry was looking up. The acoustical panels had been removed from the drop ceiling. Right there, in the flat roof, was an access door. It was locked shut with a simple manual latch to keep burglars out. It would open easily, maybe even quietly, to the flat tar-and-gravel roof, and a guy could get up there, and walk to the edge, and look down, and whack whoever was waiting there next to the front door.
Yeah.
”Bobby, Fred, come here,’ Piaggi ordered. He filled them in on the tactical situation. By this time they’d guessed that something was gravely wrong, but it wasn’t cops – that was the worst thing that could go wrong, they thought, and the assurance that it wasn’t cops actually relieved both of them. Both had handguns. Both were smart, and Fred had killed once, taking care of a small family problem in riverside Philadelphia. The two of them slid a desk under the access door. Fred was eager to show that he was a serious guy, and so gain favor with Tony, who also looked like a serious guy. He stood on the desk. It wasn’t quite enough. They put a chair atop the desk, which allowed him to open the door and look out on the roof.
Aha! Kelly saw the man standing there – actually only his head and chest were visible. The rifle came up, and the crosshairs found the face. He almost took the shot. What stopped him was the way the man had his hands on the door coaming, the way he’ was looking around, scanning the flat roof before he moved farther. He wanted to get up there. Well. I guess I’ll let hi?, ??ll? thought as a tractor-trailer rumbled past, fifty yards away. The man lifted himself up on the roof. Through his telescopic sight, Kelly could see a revolver in his hand. The man stood erect, looking all the way around, and then moved very slowly towards the front of the building. It wasn’t bad tactics, really. Always a good thing to do your reconnaissance first… oh, that’s what they’re thinking, he thought. Too bad.
Fred had removed his shoes. The small pea-size gravel hurt his feet, and so did the heat radiating from the sticky black tar under the stones, but he had to be quiet – and besides, he was a tough customer, as someone had once learned on the bank of the Delaware River. His hands flexed familiarly on the grip of his short-barreled Smith. If the bastard was there, he’d shoot straight down. Tony and Henry would pull the body in, and they’d pour water to wash the blood away, and get back to business, because this was an important delivery. Halfway there. Fred was very concentrated now. He approached the parapeted edge with his feet in the lead, his body leaning back until his stockinged toes got all the way to the low wall of bricks that extended above the roofline. Then, quickly, he leaned forward, gun aimed downwards at – nothing. Fred looked up and down the front of the building.
‘Shit!’ He turned, and called, ‘There’s nobody here!’
‘What?’ Bobby’s head came up in the opening to look, but Fred was now checking the cars out for someone crouching there.
* * *
Kelly told himself that patience was almost always rewarded. That thought had enabled him to fight off the buck fever that always came when you had a target in your sights. As soon as his peripheral vision caught movement at the opening, he brought the gun left. A face, white, twenties, dark eyes, looking at the other one, a pistol in his right hand. Just a target now. Take him first. Kelly centered the crosshairs in the bridge of the nose and squeezed gently.
Smack. Fred’s head turned when he heard a sound that was both wet and hard, but when he did, there was nothing there. He’d heard nothing else but that wet, sharp sound, but now there was also a clatter, as though Bobby’s chair had slipped off the desk and he’d fallen to the floor. Nothing else, but for no apparent reason the skin at the back of his neck turned to ice. He backed away from the edge of the roof, looking all around at the flat, rectangular horizon just as fast as his head could turn. Nothing.
The gun was new, and the bolt still a little stiff as he drove the second round home. Kelly brought it back to the right. Two for the price of one. The head was turning rapidly now. He could see the fear there. He knew there was danger but not where or what kind. Then the man started moving back to the opening. He couldn’t allow that. Kelly applied about six inches of lead and squeezed again. Pingggggg.
Smack. The sound of the impact was far louder than the muted pop of the shot. Kelly ejected the spent cartridge and slammed in another as a car approached on O’Donnell Street.
Tucker was still looking at Bobby’s face when his head jerked upwards, hearing the thud of what had to be another body, rattling the steel-bar joists of the roof. ‘Oh, my God …’
CHAPTER 37
Trial by Ordeal
‘You’re looking much better than the last time, Colonel,’ Ritter said pleasantly in Russian. The security officer rose and walked out of the living room, giving the two men privacy. Ritter was carrying an attache case, which he set on the coffee table. ‘Feeding you well?’
‘I have no complaints,’ Grishanov said warily. ‘When can I go home?’
‘This evening, probably. We’re waiting for something.’ Ritter opened the case. This made Kolya uneasy, but he didn’t allow it to show. For all he knew there might be a pistol in there. Comfortable as his imprisonment had been, friendly as his conversations with the residents in this place were, he was on enemy soil, under the control of enemies. It made him think of another man in a distant place under very different circumstances. The differences ate at his conscience and shamed him for his fear.
‘What is that?’
‘Confirmation that our people are in Hoa Lo Prison.’
The Russian lowered his head and whispered something Ritter didn’t catch. Grishanov looked up. ‘I am glad to hear that.’
‘You know, I believe you. Your letters back and forth to Rokossovskiy make that clear.’ Ritter poured himself some tea from the pot on the table, filling up Kolya’s cup also.
‘You have treated me correctly.’ Grishanov didn’t know what else to say, and the silence was heavy in him.
‘We have a lot of experience being friendly to Soviet guests,’ Ritter assured him. ‘You’re not the first to stay here. Do you ride?’
‘No, I’ve never been on a horse.’
‘Ummhmm.’ The attache case was quite full with papers, Kolya saw, wondering what they were. Ritter took out two large cards and an ink pad. ‘Could I have your hands, please?’
‘I don’t understand.’